kian lawley: pretty boy
by 50shadesofdone
Summary: ＣＯＭＰＬＥＴＥＤ Kian Lawley-One-Shot: Pretty Boy Words: 3k Rating: PG-13 2013 by 50shadesofdone. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permissions of 50shadesofdone.


**_2013 by 50shadesofdone._**** All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permissions of ****_50shadesofdone_****.**

{ _pretty boy _}

It was Saturday, in the early morning hours. Kian discovered that it was surprisingly cold for an autumn day, especially seeing as he lived in California, a state in the USA which was known for warm weather. Before he went to leave the house, he had been dwelling on whether to man up a bit and go only with a long-sleeved shirt, or just throwing on a jumper for a moment, before he decided that, first of all, it was too early for anyone from school to cross his way, and then, he already didn't belong to the cool kids, so being a bit of a pussy wouldn't change a thing in the matter of reputation.

So, after he had left, he started thinking. Thinking was what he did every Saturday when he was walking on Californian pavement. And sometimes he would even bring his iPhone with him and listen to music. This Saturday was one of those times. He wasn't the one to listen to whatever was popular, and his music taste couldn't be quite specified; he liked whatever he liked, and it didn't matter that he would listen to a heavy metal song the one moment, and the next, he'd be listening to Beethoven's _5th Symphony_. He preferred songs 'in the middle' of that, though. Songs like _Paradise_ by Coldplay or _To the Moon and Back _by Savage Garden. He loved songs with a deeper meaning behind the lyrics. But if he was being honest, it was not like he didn't like a song only because of not-so-good or meaningless lyrics; sure, he liked the deep songs better, but in the end of, it was not like an actual criterion for him to like a song.

And, there he was, walking, finding himself thinking again. Yes, it was what he intended on doing, but sometimes he felt like it was weird to be up on a Saturday, at eight in the morning, and walk around in the streets, most likely blocking everything around him, the world, out. Well, he did not only feel like it, he also had been told several times, by the mean girls and boys in this area, who somehow always managed to get under his skin. He hated it—he was a normal teenager, maybe sometimes a bit of a softy, but he was like every other person on this planet; _a human being_. And, deep down, he knew he didn't deserve to be treated like this, but at some points, he actually thought that was what he was getting for being so weak. He told himself that, if he would be stronger and fight back, he'd feel good, but when it came to a situation in which he should be defending himself, he always found himself on the brink of tears, and that was what made him hate himself sometimes. But, he guessed, all in all, he was okay with his life, and in all fairness, it must be said that, not once in all these years, he let himself cry in front of these mean people—no, he always managed to hold back the tears, until he reached his bedroom.

_Landslide_ by Fleetwood Mac came to an end, and that was when Kian found himself focusing back on the pavement of San Clemente's streets, and he pulled his ear buds out, before wrapping the headphones around his cell phone and shoving everything into the front pocket of his hoodie. He felt a smile stretch across his face as he spotted the big, green and white _Starbucks_ sign at the end of the street. He shoved both of his hands into each of the pockets of his black skinnies, and looked up at the sky, noticing the clouds at the sky, and that was the moment he noticed how icy the air was. He shivered, and sped up, determined to get engulfed in the comfortable atmosphere of his favorite coffee shop.

Once he heard the double door slide shut behind him, he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and ran a hand down the side of his face as the heated air inside the building left a stinging yet pleasant sensation on his cheeks. He rearranged his hoodie, which had rucked up while he was walking. Still smiling, and still standing on the same spot, back facing the doors, he looked around. There was, as expected, nothing special going on, and it was, as always, almost deserted, except for the old man who came here pretty much as often as Kian did, and of course, the staff behind the counter. All in all, Kian was convinced that everything was like always, but quickly, he found himself proved wrong as he started approaching the counter, and stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a girl behind the counter he had not seen before. He guessed she was new here. It wasn't that he didn't like changes, no, it was just the girl herself—she was so beautiful; Kian suddenly forgot how to breathe properly as his breath hitched, and he blushed furiously as his gaze met hers for a heartbeat. He noticed that her eyes were a bright shade of blue, and he found himself comparing this girl's eyes to the eyes of all the girls he had met before and came to the conclusion these eyes were, by far, the prettiest he had ever seen.

"Good morning," he heard her saying, attention drawn to her lips, and as pathetic as it might have sounded, he thought that her voice sounded like the one of an angel would. It cost him a lot of strength to tear his eyes away from her pretty, plump, and beautifully pink lips, but in the end of it, he succeeded, which boosted his confidence a bit, enough for him to proceed walking toward the counter, which normally was no big deal, but seeing as this pretty girl was about to take his order, it turned into a bit of a challenge.

"G-Good morning," Kian responded nervously, maybe a little late, but the girl didn't seem to pay any mind to it, or maybe she hadn't even noticed. All Kian knew was that she smiled at him, widely, exposing two rows of teeth that could have been from a commercial for toothpaste. _Well_, Kian thought, _that sounded odd_. Yet, he thought it was true, so he just went on with walking toward her. When he finally reached her, he gripped the edge of the counter tightly, knuckles turning white. For a second, he stared at her, still trying to figure out how one person could contain so much beauty. He thought that, if beauty was inches, she'd go on for miles.

"What can I do for you?" she then asked, seeming slightly confused as to why Kian kept staring at her, which led him to blushing furiously as his gaze dropped to the wooden counter. He drew patterns into it with his fingertips, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

"A Chai Tea Latte in grande, please," he murmured, glancing anywhere but her as he spoke, before he felt like face palming when he realized how rude he must come across. Quickly, he offered her a weak smile as his eyesight glued itself to her eyes. He watched her return the smile, and felt his heartbeat speed up to the point where he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his throat any second. But, he didn't pay any mind to it; he just kept looking into those beautifully blue eyes, which seemed so welcoming and full of emotion, and somehow he found himself noticing a sad glint in them, but he brushed it off, thinking that it was just his weird self imagining things.

"Anything else for you?"

"A bottled water, please." He wanted to know her name so badly, but he knew that, as always, her name tag was in the chest area, meaning he had to catch a glimpse of her breasts to be able to get to know her name, and normally, he wouldn't have cared about it, but seeing as this girl was so incredibly pretty and made him feel extremely nervous, he didn't dare looking anywhere near her chest. "That's it, thank you."

"To go?" she asked, and Kian nodded, smiling. "That comes to a total of… 5 dollar she told Kian. He started fishing out the money out of the pocket of his pants, hands trembling. Meanwhile, the girl had started working on the tea for Kian, and by the time she was finished, 5 dollar laid on the counter, waiting for her to be put in the cash box. "Thank you," she said, and Kian saw her glancing up for a heartbeat, before she looked back down, at the bill, biting down her lip softly as a smile stretched across her pretty face. He could not help but find himself wondering if she was actually just blushing, seeing as her cheeks seemed to turn into a bright, pretty shade of pink, which made her look younger than before. He thought she looked cuter like this, too. Kian realized that he must come across like a creep in view of the fact that he was not secretive about his staring, at all; he just looked straight ahead, following her every move—which added up to the creepiness—and as soon as he had fully processed what he was doing, he stopped, and decided to take out his phone in an attempt to seem normal to the girl he started developing a crush on—_but only a teeny tiny one!_

For a heartbeat, he considered asking her about her name, but he knew that she would probably raise her eyebrows questioningly and point at her name tag, which would lead him to looking at her chest, and he was sure that doing that wouldn't help him and his nervousness. He hated feeling like that—_he wouldn't even look at her breasts, but at her name tag, and then he would finally know a name to this girl!_—but he didn't seem to be able to do anything about it. So he stood there, waiting for her to hand him the tea in the white paper cup.

"Thank you," he rushed when she finally did, and he quickly reached out to grab the cup, but his fingers felt like he had dipped them in oil, and before he knew it, he felt a burning sensation—unlike the sting of the heated air on his cheeks, this wasn't pleasant at all, and hurt pretty badly—on his pants and a bit of the tea landed on his hoodie. He squeaked loudly when the cup hit the floor with a thud, and all the tea splashed to the ground. A few droplets even hit his white converse, but in all honesty, he didn't mind it all too much, seeing that the hot liquid on his skin set him in pain and he couldn't quite care about his shoes at this very moment. He glanced down at his tea-stained clothes, before looking up at the girl, the pain fading as his eyes settled upon her face. Embarrassment, in form of the blood in his veins, rose to his cheeks, and he found himself blushing more than ever as his eyes met the girl's for mere seconds, before she broke out of her trance, and jumped back. He watched her disappear for a moment, before she was right in front of him, handkerchiefs in both her hands as she crouched down, one of her exposed knees landing in a pool of tea, letting her wince, but Kian watched in awe as she chose to ignore it. Instead, she hissed curse words under her breath, and occasionally squeaked, "I am so, _so_ sorry!"

"It's okay. I—I—I thi-think I am fine," he spluttered after a while of constant apologizing.

"No, nothing's okay! I am so, so, so, _so_ sorry," she squeaked, and Kian watched as she frowned while her pale skin turned somewhat scarlet. He didn't want her to be embarrassed—she was a human being, he was human being, and accidents happened to human beings. "I will make you a new tea," she said, straightening, before she handed clean hankies to Kian, and glanced up at him. He loved that she was shorter than him, and he imagined that, if he would hug her, he could easily rest his chin on her head, and that thought made him want to smile and frown at the same time—smile because that would be beautiful; frown because he was convinced that this wouldn't ever happen—so his lips ended up pressed together in a fine line, which let his plump lips appear thin. "I am so sorry," she breathed again, before sprinting back behind the counter.

Kian looked down at his crotch, scrunching up his nose. "It looks like I wetted my pants," he stated dryly, before his eyes widened—_he hated when he said the first thing that came to his mind!_

He heard her gasp. "I am so sor—oh, my God, it really does!" she exclaimed, before she fell into a fit of giggles, and a smile spread across Kian's face in return.

"What a beautiful sound," is what he found himself saying, and he and her blushed simultaneously. _This _really_ had to stop happening!_ "I'm sorry," he mumbled, going back to dabbing at his clothes with the handkerchiefs in his hands.

"Here you go," the girl whispered, and he heard her place something on the counter, so he looked up to see a white cup, right next to a little box. He narrowed his eyes at the cardboard box. "Again, I'm so sorry."

"I already told you—it's alright," he told her, smiling softly as he went over to dump the used hankies into the dustbin she was holding out to him. "But what is this?" he asked her, pointing a finger at the little box.

"A piece of cheesecake as a sorry for ruining your clothes, and probably your day," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, and the sound of it let shivers run down Kian's spine.

He frowned, shaking his head negatively. "I can't accept that," he said, "I really can't."

"You can."

He shook his head, the hint of a smile playing around his face.

"_Please_," she said, "do it for me."

His breath was stuck in his throat as he stared at her, eyes wide. He waited several seconds, before he nodded his head. "Okay," he gave in, "for you."

She grinned triumphantly, and clapped her hands together twice, before nodding her head. "But, I'm really so sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he told her gently, a lopsided grin developing on his face, and he blushed as he saw her eyes flicker to his lips for a second, before he dipped his head, and stared at his hands resting on the counter.

"Sorry," she said softly, before clamping a hand over her mouth in realization.

Kian let out a small laugh, to which the girls responded with a playful scoff. Sobering up, Kian shook his head. "S'alright," he told her.

"Oh, wait," the girl said, flicking her brown hair off of her shoulder, before she bent down to get something out of one of the little refrigerators. She straightened up, before placing a bottle of water on the counter, smiling as she glanced up at Kian. "Guess you'll need a bag now," she murmured, before disappearing yet again. A minute later, she handed Kian the bag filled with the food and the water, and she held the cup of tea out to Kian, who took the things gratefully in his hands.

"Thanks again," Kian said, before he nodded at her, offering her yet another smile. She responded with a toothy grin, a dimple on her left cheek coming into view, and he found himself staring at it for a moment as his heartbeat began accelerating, and he knew it was time to go, before something more embarrassing would happen.

"Have a nice day!"

"You too," he replied, before walking toward the double door, which slid open when he approached them, and he slipped through them, cold air hitting his cheeks when he stood outside and the doors closed behind him. He stood there for a moment, before he decided to take a sip of his tea. Lifting the tea to his lips, something on the cardboard cup itself caught his attention. He lowered his hand again, and turned the cup in his hand, before he realized that she had written something onto it.

"_For the prettiest boy I'll see today. I hope I'll see your face again soon._"

Right next to it, a cell number was written down onto the cardboard.

A smile tugged at the corners of Kian's lips, and he let it develop on his face as he blushed wildly, his eyes scanning over the neat handwriting over and over again, before he turned around, and looked through the floor-to-ceiling windows, to see the girl watching him, before his face heated up even more.

He nodded at her.

She smiled widely, and he could tell that she was blushing, too.

He winked, before turning around quickly—_he had never winked at anyone before, especially not at a girl this pretty!_—and started making his way home.

He was still flattered, seeing as it was early in the morning, and there would come so many boys to buy something at _Starbucks_, how could she already know that he was going to be prettiest of all? He smiled, his gaze dropping to the floor.

On his way home, he didn't think of anything but the girl; her beautiful voice; her constant apologizing, which let him assume that she was very polite and nice; and her pretty face with the pretty lips and the pretty eyes, and he wished that he knew her name, but for now, she was just the girl to him, but that was enough, and he would ask her for her name the next time he would go to Starbucks.

_Yeah, she would get to see his face again._


End file.
